Freak
by jedimaster080
Summary: Harry didn't need his aunt and uncle to tell him he was a freak. He had known since the first time he had met other boys... and girls. trans!harry.
1. Identity Crisis

**Chapter 1**

Harry Potter was six years old when he first realized there was something wrong with him. He had always known he was a freak, but it wasn't until he learned that Boys were supposed to like playing tag, getting dirty and rough-housing, not playing with dolls, pretty frilly dresses and sparkly mock jewelry. When he had tried to play with the girls in his class, they had giggled, while the boys who noticed had, at Dudley's suggestion, started to mock him and chant the hated word "Freak" over and over, until Harry ran, trying to keep his tears from falling, to the bathroom to hide and cry in peace.

When Harry had got home he had been screamed at by both his uncle and aunt about not drawing attention to his freakishness and not finding new ways to be freakish. He went for a whole week on one meal a day, locked in his cupboard, save when he was let out for chores.

Over the years, his sense that there was something wrong with him only grew stronger, but he had learned his lesson well. After that incident, the Dursleys constantly badgered and goaded him about dresses and frills in addition to normal taunts. Dudley had changed his preferred insults to "poofter" and "queer," but still used the age old favorite of "freak" every so often. Their constant badgering wore on Harry, stressing him to the point that in his few moments of peace he wondered if he weren't becoming a complete head-case.

He knew they were right, of course. Harry had felt it every day, like he was walking around, uncomfortably, in someone else's skin, some dirty, scrawny, ugly, freakish boy. The only thing Harry really liked about his appearance was his eyes. He thought he might tolerate the hair if he could grow it out into something long and curly, rather than the frizzy, spiky mess that looked like it came out of some Chinese cartoon. Aunt Petunia would never allow that, of course. When she discovered that a buzz-cut or other short style would regrow overnight, she had settled for not letting it grow a centimeter longer, much to Harry's disappointment.

"Hey, you're Harry Potter, right? The delinquent poof? Big D's idiot cousin?" a voice asked. Harry looked up to see it belonged to Sue Tyler. She was a tomboy who spent her time teasing the other girls into oblivion. Harry looked for escape routes and, finding none, nodded mutely.

"Hey, buck up, no need to be all down. I heard Big D joking about you tryin' to play dress-up, back in year 1. You may be a queer little freakazoid, but I admire your bollocks." Sue looked left and right, checking for eavesdroppers, before leaning toward Harry conspiratorially. "Between you an' me, I think you'd make a pretty little girl." Sue winked before leaving Harry be in the library alcove he typically hid from Dudley in during break periods.

Harry was struck dumb. But in a secret deep-down place, he felt a thrill at the compliment. Would she help him? Could he trust her? Was she just making fun of him like everyone else? But no one had ever approached Harry like that before, and he was so starved for friendship he ignored any warnings his mind may have tried to give him.

Over the next couple of weeks he met with Sue in out of the way places, she would give him little things, hair clips, makeup, a beautiful frilly pair of girl's underwear, and she would always compliment him and tell him to wear it next time, a satisfied smirk on her face.

This went on until the school year (his last in Primary) drew to a close. Sue brought him a pastel pink dress with a black silk sash and a blond wig.

"Here, try them on. I brought my camera to take pictures so you can see, I know you can't keep these hidden, plus my parents would be mad if I gave away this dress. It's supposed to be for church, you know. But this way you can see how pretty you are," Sue stated in her imperious way that swept Harry up. His heart pounded in excitement at a chance to wear any clothes that were so nice and most assuredly not Dudley's hand-me-downs. He quickly donned both dress and wig. Sue had Harry pose in various ways for the camera and snapped several pictures.

"Good, good. Now come over here Harry, I brought a few friends I think will agree you look pretty too." Harry followed her between two buildings into a dark secluded area, feeling nervous and extremely vulnerable.

"Hey, Poof! Sue was right, you are quite a vision." Harry's heart stopped as he heard Dudley's voice and his barely contained laughter. Harry turned to look at Sue with hurt and confusion. She had her characteristic smirk on her face, but now it seemed more evil than humorous, he also noticed they were surrounded by Dudley's gang.

"Oh, look at him, he honestly thought I was his friend," Sue laughed cruelly. "Wrong! I just thought it would be hilarious to mess with you, never thought you were such a freak. Honestly, do you really think you could ever fool anyone that you were a girl? You just look like a stupid sicko freak in a dress." Sue's words hurt like sawing lemon-soaked knives, cutting to the core of his deepest insecurities. He couldn't say a single word, only whimper as tears streamed unbidden down his cheeks.

"Oh my God, a freak and a cry baby, this is just too pathetic to watch. I'm gonna go develop these photos, so we can plaster them around school and hand them out tomorrow before summer, you boys have fun." Sue practically cackled as she walked away. Harry watched her back receding into the distance, hoping at any moment she'd turn around and be his snarky best-friend Sue again, but she never did, and Harry fell to his knees in crippling despair.

It is a well-known fact that children are emotionally quite resilient. Harry had gone through verbal and emotional abuse at the hands of his relatives mostly unscathed, but he was unprepared for how much this betrayal of his trust hurt. Having never had a friend before, he had grasped at his relationship with Sue with both hands, like a drowning man clutching a life-preserver, but Sue had just cut the rope and laughed in his face for thinking he deserved rescue.

Harry curled into a ball, just before the snickering boys began punching and kicking him with reckless abandon. The familiar pain of the blows and occasional broken bone was nothing compared to how he felt inside. He just wished to get away, far away from the laughing and kicking so he could cry and die of grief in peace. Harry felt a warm tingling sensation over his body before, suddenly, the blows stopped. He didn't really care all that much and simply cried and rocked himself to sleep.

He was awoken by the brisk evening chill and loud shrieks of admonishment. He picked out a few words, such as something about a roof and a mark on his permanent record, but he just went where he was led, silently.

He was predictably screamed at for hours by his aunt and uncle before being locked in his cupboard with no supper. The next day at school, his pictures were up all over the halls. The other children were snickering and whispering as he passed. Harry managed to procure a copy of each picture and hid them, to keep as a reminder to never trust another person ever again.

He was blamed for the pictures. For some reason, the staff seemed to believe it was part of some elaborate graduation prank of some kind, although the blustering administrators were baffled and unnerved when Harry silently accepted whatever they said, not seeming to even pay attention to them.

The Dursley's were upset that they were called in the middle of the day, to deal with more delinquent behavior from Harry and when he was sent home early, they threw him roughly into his cupboard, promising no meals for a week and a summer of hard labor, as if that was somehow different from typical summers.

Harry closed his eyes and focused on those short few weeks where he had thought he had a friend and one who had complimented him. He had felt almost comfortable in his own skin. He smiled bitterly. He knew he was broken, he had been told many times by the Dursleys that God hated freaks like him. He thought he understood why that might be now, he was a mistake. God had been drunk like his parents or something when he made Harry and put a girl's soul, his soul into a boy's body. People hated admitting to their mistakes, after all.

He stifled out his secret wishes for someone to save him from the Dursleys or that he would wake up in the girl body he belonged in. There was no God, at least not one who was going to fix him, that would be admitting to His mistake, after all, there was no Father Christmas, and there was no such thing as magic, as the Dursleys were very clear on whenever the topic bore mentioning.

If Harry wanted to make his life better, no one and nothing would help him but himself, he realized that now.

True to their word, the Dursleys increased Harry's workload significantly and for two weeks Harry did back-breaking labor on a single piece of toast and three glasses of water a day. He weeded, scrubbed, mowed, pruned, painted, organized, swept and dusted until he fainted from exhaustion or heatstroke each day. But after three weeks, the Dursleys began to feed him his normal meager portions again and were becoming hard-pressed to find more hard labor for Harry to do and so he was merely relegated to household chores of cleaning, cooking and washing.

Though Harry hated the work, he took pride in his accomplishments. Every whispered compliment about how immaculate the Dursley house was that Harry overheard made him inwardly smile. And so this pattern continued, with Harry purposefully experimenting in his work to do the fastest, highest quality work he could do, leaving the Dursleys little room to punish him.

Once he was allowed time to himself again, Harry began studying in the public library. He had purposely done poorly and ignored his coursework in primary school to avoid punishment for outdoing Dudley, but he no longer cared. He now knew the worst Vernon and Petunia had to throw at him and it didn't scare him. He actually quite liked gardening and cooking. And though cleaning was taxing, he did love the rush of accomplishment he felt when looking over a glistening floor or countertop.

In addition to his coursework, Harry also studied up on everything to do with women. If there was a way for him to change himself to become one, or even simply look satisfactory to his own eyes in a mirror, he would take it, consequences be damned. He finally knew who he was, rather who _she_ was, and no one could ever make her feel bad about it again. She studied fashion, hair care, anatomy (much to her blushing embarrassment), hygiene, anything that would make her look and act more like the girl she knew she was inside.

As the months passed, summer drew closer and closer to its conclusion and Harry actually found herself excited for the coming school year. She had been able to make her own money by doing work for the neighbors in her free time and had a plan to buy her own uniform for Stonewall from a surplus store when she got the chance, and some girl clothes while she was at it. She wasn't sure how to hide them, but thought she'd cross that bridge when she got to it.

"Forty-six? But last year I got Forty-seven!" Dudley screamed as Harry dished up the Huevos Rancheros she had made based on a recipe she found in a world cookbook, apparently a favorite in the southern United States and parts of Mexico, she just hoped it still tasted as good using Spanish rice and the spices she had at hand instead.

Vernon eyed her suspiciously before tasting the food and grumbling noncommittally before wolfing it down like _he_ was the one who was starved. Harry smiled at the reaction and dished herself up a markedly smaller plate. She felt no need to try and make an issue of her smaller portions, since she really didn't need more. In fact, she recently read that Calorie restriction was the only scientifically proven method to extend lifespan, so she was happy to eat less if it meant outliving her loathsome relatives.

After learning the basics of nutrition, Harry made a point to devise more nutritionally balanced meals so the portion size was not as important. A fry up might make for a tasty breakfast but, it was also basically nothing but fat on a plate. If it were completely up to Harry, she would try some of the exotic vegetarian recipes she had found. Mrs. Prashad, the Indian widow who lived on Magnolia Crescent had let her try some of her home-country's native cuisine when she was fixing her roof and had worked past dinner. Harry had decided in that moment that meat was completely overrated. Harry smirked as she imagined the blank disbelieving looks Vernon and Dudley would give her if she tried to explain to them that she would much prefer chopped vegetables and spices to bacon and sausage any day.

"I don't care if they're bigger, what does that even matter?" Dudley complained. Harry realized she missed part of the conversation about the inadequacy of the number of Dudley's presents. Vernon huffed a booming chuckle as he unfolded the paper and took a sip of his coffee.

"Good lad, he's just trying to get his money's worth. Don't forget about the zoo trip, and I'm sure we could get you another gift while we're out." Vernon simpered as he patted the golden boy on his back. Harry rolled her eyes, glad, for the first time ever probably, that she would be at Miss Figg's. She couldn't wait to clean the woman's house and arrange her kitty photo albums, she even smiled in sadistic glee as she imagined the confused shouts of the old woman when Harry commandeered her kitchen for her experiments in vegetarian cuisine, after throwing out that awful, and seemingly omnipresent, stewed cabbage first, of course.

The phone rang and Petunia answered haughtily. "Hello? Oh, hello Miss Figg… What do you mean? Surely you can still… I see, I see, you're sure we can't just drop the boy off? He's been less trouble lately… I understand, goodbye then." Petunia hung up the Phone and sighed. "Well, the old spinster's gone and broken her hip, tripping over her cat or some such rot. I always said she shouldn't keep so many filthy animals, it's unhealthy, well now its cost us a sitter."

"Is there really no one else to take him?" Vernon asked. Dudley seemed to be gearing up for a tantrum.

"No, they're all on vacation or still busy. There's that old wog, but I don't trust her, I think she's filling his head with nonsense, remember when he was trying to get us to let him cook vegetarian after that night he spent dinner there?" Petunia replied. Vernon scoffed in remembrance. Harry felt her eye twitch at being talked about like she wasn't there.

"You could always leave me here. Better yet, you could drop me off alone in the park." Harry suggested, hopefully. She was a little miffed she wouldn't be able to try her vegetarian cooking out, but she could always walk to the library and study, or hide in some bushes to practice her voice and walk.

"No you'd probably burn the house down, you'll have to come with us to the zoo." Vernon grunted through gritted teeth, as if it pained him. Dudley immediately stood and wailed his protest.

"No! I don't want him there, the poof'll ruin everything!" Dudley threw a huge tantrum, his standard tactic for getting what he wanted, and though Vernon and Petunia cooed to him and placated him with offers of extra gifts, for the first time in as long as Harry could remember, Dudley did not get his way.

So, when the time came, Harry was wedged in-between Dudley and his right-hand toady Piers Polkiss on the way to the zoo, while the boys snickered and smacked her with their Smeltings sticks.

The zoo was actually fairly interesting. After Harry "got lost," she was able to enjoy the animal exhibits in relative peace. She learned a great deal about the animals from the zoo-keepers. She even bought herself an ice-cream with her own money.

On her way to the reptile house, Harry noticed a girl with an enormous bush of beautiful brown hair. _If only I had a brush, I'd tie her to a chair and brush that beautiful hair until it shown like polished bronze._ Harry shook the intrusive thought from her head as she walked closer. The girl seemed to be talking to a zoo-keeper about something.

"No, no, no! you've got it all wrong, careful study has shown Chameleons change color based on their mood and not as a form of camouflage, I read it in a scientific journal article called _Chameleons and Mood Rings: the Unforeseen Advantages of Deleterious Mutations,_ Dr. Reichenbach explicitly said 'the adaptive advantages of pseudo-random color shading in the green spectrum doubled as a kind of stochastic camouflage, but at the base level, the color changing probably serves as a sexual or emotional signaling mechanism, given that different types of plants did not elicit any kind of correlation in the color changes that were noted…'" The girl paused to take a deep breath, but was cut off before she could continue.

"Woah, woah, woah. I'm sorry, I'm studying zoology in Uni, kid, we don't touch on that kind of stuff, mostly just how to take care of the animals, I just read the cue cards when asked questions." The zoo-keeper stated. The girl huffed at the pointlessness of her tirade and turned to stalk past her bemused parents, only to run directly into a gaping Harry.

Harry planted her feet and grabbed the girl at the elbow to keep them both from falling. The brown-haired girl flushed and stuttered. "S-s-sorry…" Harry smiled and let go of her arms.

"No problem, I'm Harry. That was wicked how you actually knew more than the zoo-keeper. Do you like animals? What's your name?" Harry babbled. The girl looked frightened like she had never had a conversation with another child her age before.

"Her-Hermione…" the girl replied looking to her parents, as if they held the answer to her strange and confusing predicament.

"Hermione, that's a weird name, but it's pretty, I like it! Well it was nice to meet you, I was just heading to the reptile house, so I'll see you." Harry stated as she glided away, smirking at the flustered reaction Hermione had. She was sure she'd never see the brown-haired girl again, which was part of what made it so fun to mess with her.

The reptile house was hot and relatively dark, though Harry still enjoyed it. Her favorites were the snakes. Though they didn't do much, their scales were colorful and shiny like tiny armor plates made of jewels.

The most magnificent of all the captive serpents was a massive Brazilian Boa Constrictor that was silently and stoically ignoring harassment from Dudley and Piers. Harry smiled inwardly as the two boys eventually grew bored moved on to more active denizens of the reptile house.

"Sorry about them, they get like that sometimes. There's really nothing to be done but ignore them, trust me." Harry whispered to the snake conspiratorially. The constrictor raised its head and seemed to look at Harry. She was surprised, not expecting the animal could even hear her through the glass, much less pay heed to her.

"You must not like it in there, trapped. I know that feeling." Harry mentioned, wanting the conversation with the snake to be real. It seemed to nod at her words.

"You're Brazilian, right? Was it nice there before they brought you here?" The snake turned its head down toward the plaque giving its relevant details. There in capital letters were embossed the words "bred in captivity."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. I was too young to remember anything when I was taken in by the Dursleys, so I kind of understand. I wish I could—" Harry was cut off as her piggy cousin came and shoved her to the ground.

"Dad, come quick, you'll never believe what this snake is doing!" The lump shouted, pressing his face against the glass.

Harry was rather irritated with her cousin at that moment, enough for some rather vindictive thoughts to flood her mind for a second until she settled on wishing the lout would learn what it felt like to be on display for useless idiots, trapped in a cage, never left alone.

Like a tense muscle relaxing, Harry felt a rush of static over her skin and suddenly Dudley was behind the glass, wet and crying in fear. The Boa Constrictor, on the other hand was free and hissing in delight. The crowds screamed in panic as they rushed to escape the reptile house, save for the Dursleys who were pounding on the glass in a futile attempt to free their trapped son.

" _Thankssss amiga! Now I'm off to Brazil."_ The snake stated, hissing to itself as it slithered away. Harry smiled and wished for the creature to make it, feeling the strange rush of static once more, leaving Harry feeling exhausted.

What she would never know is that the snake by one miracle of chance after another would evade capture, find food and reach transport, eventually making its way, after an unbelievable adventure, to the Brazilian rainforests.

The Dursleys eventually convinced zoo security that they weren't wildlife protesters (thanks in most part to some secret 'freakish' help they'd certainly never find agreeable if they knew.) and eventually, as the sun was setting, piled into Vernon's car and made their way home.

"Listen here boy; I know you were the cause of that fiasco today. Don't expect to be getting any free time to do whatever it is you do while you're out, that's right out. You'll be in the cupboard for the summer, except to do your chores," Vernon blustered, when they had reached home, shoving Harry into her cupboard. "And no supper for a week!" the obese man shouted, almost as an afterthought, as he slammed and locked the cupboard shut.

Harry's last thought before she fell into unconsciousness was, _well, this is less than ideal._


	2. Return to Sender

**Chapter 2**

Dumbledore smiled to himself, seated on his throne, surrounded by his magical tinker-toys. Harry Potter would be receiving his letter today. If the old man's assumptions were correct it would take many more before he finally sent Hagrid to get the boy.

It was the perfect way to introduce the boy to his world while avoiding giving him too much useful knowledge and keeping him both humble and light-aligned. Even Dumbledore himself could not boast as light a disposition as simple-minded Hagrid.

Owls were going out today, initiating young minds, those anticipating eagerly and those unsuspecting of the world of magic they were soon to become a part of. This time of year always made Dumbledore giddy with excitement.

Unexpectedly, the detection spells Dumbledore himself had placed on Harry's letter informed him the boy had opened it. Well, he wouldn't know how to send a reply so Hagrid will still have to gather him, I'm sure.

Then something truly disturbing occurred. The detection spells told Dumbledore that Harry, for it must have been the boy, since the letter never changed hands, lit the letter on fire before throwing it away. Where was uncertain as the spells dissipated without the letter to anchor them.

The following weeks, Dumbledore forced the castle to send more letters to Harry Potter, even though it normally only addressed more in the event that a letter was never opened. Each wave of letters, though they increased in quantity and ridiculousness of delivery method, were well and thoroughly destroyed by mister Potter.

Finally, the boy's birthday approached and Dumbledore, exhausted from his lost battle of wits with the eleven-year-old, felt certain that his seeming rejection of magic would finally be done with, bashed in by a ten foot tall man and his magical umbrella. Dumbledore smiled to himself. Some of the ways Harry had dealt with the onslaught of letters were so clever had called up his friend Alastor Moody to talk about it. The man had nodded with grim approval at Harry's level of distrust and paranoia, especially considering the specificity of the address and seeming outlandishness of the contents.

Dumbledore laughed good-naturedly along with his old friend about being bested by a child. He would be much happier once things were taken care of and hopefully Hagrid's gentle and bumbling nature had taken the edge off the boy's paranoia. He couldn't have Harry Potter seeing through the plan he had for the boy before it was time.

* * *

Harry scratched one of the owls under the beak as it chirped happily. Its compatriots were helping themselves to bacon and sausage drippings from breakfast. After the Letter Stalker had started writing to her, Harry had started noticing the owls about the neighborhood and started taking care of them. She assumed a pet store must have burned down or something, because the beautiful birds were strangely active during the day and of a vast array of both local and exotic species.

It wasn't until the milk man incident that Harry began to suspect a connection between the birds and the Stalker. She had been scribbling "return to bloody sender" across the parchment envelopes vigorously in red marker when the owls began swooping down and taking the re-addressed envelopes from the pile she had made before flying off. She was confused for a moment before the odd phrase from the letter returned to her mind "We expect your owl."

After she had started feeding the owls they were like willing servants vying for handouts and happy to carry gifts for the Stalker for her. She was starting to suspect that there might be something to all that magic rubbish when after sending several venomously worded letters and the occasional manure-filled envelope, the Hogwarts letters finally stopped coming. It was the best birthday present she had ever got.

She smiled to herself as the owls fluttered off to who knew where, presumably to carry letters for other less grateful patrons. Harry scarfed down her single slice of toast and glass of water for breakfast before heading out to get an early start on her yard work. She figured she might have the time to go around to her more loyal customers to apologize for her inability to help for the past few weeks and inform them she was finally free to do so once more, if they wished. Vernon had relented his punishment after two weeks of non-stop calls for Harry's services around the neighborhood.

As Harry was pruning buds and pulling up weeds in the front garden, she almost pruned her own finger when a man twice as tall and five times as wide as any she had seen before came galumphing up the drive, heedless of the incredulous and offended stares of the neighbors directed at him. Harry had to suppress a snicker at the stroke this would surely give to her aunt.

The giant of a man walked past Harry to the door and began to pound on it like it had offended him in some way.

"Excuse me, sir," Harry stated, brushing her hands off on her shirt. "Are you here for Mr. or Mrs. Dursley? Mr. Dursley is at work, and should be for another hour or so."

The giant stared at Harry, seemingly surprised by her in some way.

"Blimey, izzat you Harry?" The massive man asked in his thick accent.

"How do you know my name? Are you the one who's been sending all those suspicious letters?" Harry demanded, suddenly on guard. She brandished her garden clippers as if they might provide some kind of defense against the monstrous entity before her.

The giant blinked his beaded eyes in surprise and confusion. "Er… Dumbledore jus' said he was worried yeh weren' gettin' yer letters. He sen' me to make sure yeh was comin' to Hogwarts an' ter take yeh to the Alley fer supplies an' such. Nuthin' to be alarmed abou'," the man replied, scratching his head as he searched for words.

"Hmm… Well, when the letters where stuffed _inside_ the eggs, I started to have an inkling that this magic business might not just be some cruel joke," Harry began. The large man only frowned more as she spoke. "That said, I'm sad to say I likely won't be attending. I doubt Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia would let me." The giant scoffed at the idea.

"How do yeh suppose great muggles such as themselves'll stop yeh?" Harry frowned at the man's brush-off.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean by that, but they _are_ my guardians," She responded, growling under her breath at that particular injustice.

"The son of Lily and James Potter, not go to Hogwarts? That's blasphemy, that is. There'll be riots! Where're these guardians o' yers, I'll give 'em what-for!" The man shouted and resumed pounding on the front door with renewed vigor.

Harry sighed, there was no way this was going to work out well for her, and she was just off her last punishment and free to resume her odd jobs around the neighborhood. _Oh well,_ She sighed to herself. _Such is my life._

After a few seconds, when Harry started to wonder if the front door might be bashed off its hinges, Petunia Dursley yanked open the door with a face full of fury to match Vernon even at his most purple. However, one look at the unnaturally tall man and whatever hateful comments were on her lips died there as she paled.

After a minute of silence, the man irritably shoved his way inside. Harry dared not go inside, though she was extremely curious, almost as much as the entire neighborhood of shocked onlookers, she knew better than to push her luck and be blamed for anything out of the ordinary entering the Dursley home.

So afraid was Harry, that after finishing her chores for the day and informing her clients she was no longer barred from doing work for them, she proceeded to finish any and every chore she could think of outside the house. Even when her uncle Vernon returned home, Harry continued to muck out the gutter.

Loud, indistinct shouting, as well as what sounded like two loud shotgun blasts weren't even enough to make Harry's burning curiosity distract her from the oh-so-important re-organizing of the shed.

It was only after Harry finished washing and waxing Vernon's car and the sun had set that she saw the giant lumbering toward her.

"Well, seems the Dursley's have come 'round to my way of seein' things. I'll be takin' yeh to London tomorrow to get yer school supplies. My name's Hagrid, by the way, never did get around to sayin'," The giant, Hagrid, stated off-handedly. Harry stared in astonishment at the man's cheeky grin and decided she _really_ didn't want to know what happened inside the house.

"Th-thanks, I guess," Harry replied flatly. Hagrid then walked off in great, heavy strides, humming a strange tune to himself.

Reluctantly, Harry went back inside. Her aunt and uncle both wore stunned, ashen expressions. They had untouched glasses of tea before them, as well as Vernon's shotgun, which was, somehow, tied into simple knot, like so much rope.

Bits of ceiling fell onto the table, prompting Harry to look up and see the two large holes, presumably caused by the gun-shots Harry had heard earlier. She thought she could make out the forgotten and unwanted gifts that filled Dudley's second bedroom.

"We're not happy about this, freak, but you'll be moving into Dudley's second bedroom and we will allow you to go to this ruddy school and learn magic tricks on two conditions," Vernon began, surprisingly calmly. "One, I'll not be paying a pence for it. Two, you will not bring any of that foolishness in this house. Understood?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied instantly, nodding her head, scarcely believing her luck.


	3. A Whole New World

**Chapter 3**

Harry had never been to a bank or an amusement park before. Gringotts was, to her delight, a twisted amalgamation of the two. When she decided to look through the Potter family vault for heirlooms, Hagrid had turned green and she quickly told him she could handle herself and that she'd meet him outside after looking through what was left of her family's heritage and grabbing some money for the shopping trip.

The Potter family heirloom vault was truly enormous. Being underage, she couldn't take out any pieces of magical jewelry, armor or weaponry, but there were a few things she was drawn to immediately: clothes and books.

Looking over a truly massive shelf of tomes, she decided to grab everything on the syllabus and anything with an interesting title on top of that and threw them into an old trunk. She was about to close the lid and begin filling the second and third compartments with clothes and other oddments when she noticed a book marked only with: _Lily Potter 1980—_

Opening the book and skimming it, Harry realized what she held was her mother's journal, and from the looks of things it was about a wizarding war which Harry thought most likely lead to her death. She threw the journal in with the other books before closing the lid and opening it again from a different lock, opening a new, empty compartment.

Harry grabbed a bunch of shirts, pants and wizard robes from a rack. They were of much older styles, probably her father's when he went to school, but they would fit better than Dudley's cast-offs. After half-filling the second compartment, Harry found telescopes, scales, potioneering equipment and many other baubles she decided to throw in as well.

It was after she had filled the second compartment and opened the third that Harry came upon more clothes. She stopped and stared at the dresses, blouses, skirts and stockings in silent awe. The clothes were the fare of women and girls from every generation from the middle ages to the more recent past, some even in her size.

Harry's eyes prickled with tears when she looked at the modern styles, they showed clear evidence of machining and were made from cheaper materials, but they were the most beautiful of the lot. Elegant and simple, these were the dresses that belonged to Lily Potter, who brought muggle sensibilities to the wardrobe. These dresses couldn't match the ostentation of the older dresses that overflowed with lace and pearls and silk. They were quiet, beautiful and strong, unafraid to be hung beside their more decadent forbears. _My mother must have been the most beautiful woman alive in these,_ Harry thought as she admired the dresses in silent tears for a few more minutes.

After a while, Harry pulled herself away and reluctantly only took a few of Lily's dresses, ones that had resizing charms woven into the fabric, as well as the blouses, skirts, and stockings that would fit her and a single non-enchanted necklace of white gold and three emeralds. Throwing her new female wardrobe, with room to spare for what she had already bought for herself, into the third compartment, she locked the trunk and dragged it back out of the vault.

Griphook, her cart-driving and vault-opening goblin for the day, looked irritated with how long she had taken, but refrained from saying so and merely helped her heft her trunk into the cart and rocket back up the tracks to her trust vault.

Comparatively, Harry spent almost no time in her trust vault grabbing three large handfuls of golden galleons, intent on converting one such handful into pounds, she stuffed them into a sack gifted to her by Hagrid and was out of the vault in ten seconds flat.

After converting ten galleons into five hundred pounds, Harry walked out of the bank and met up with Hagrid who still looked a little green. She smiled at the man who had already begun wearing down her defenses and becoming her friend. Hagrid was a fellow animal-lover, after all, which earned him bonus points.

"Ah, I see yeh got some o' yer family's stuff. Did yeh mark off what yeh don't need on yer list?" Hagrid asked, eying the path to the Leaky cauldron.

"I figured I should get the newest edition of the history book, other than that I should only need a wand, potion ingredients, and a uniform," Harry replied, not mentioning she planned on doing some shopping in the muggle world as well.

"Good, good, why don' yeh head off to Madam Malkin's for robes and I'll just kip off for a pint at the Cauldron and meet yeh by Flourish and Blott's after tha'? The Gringotts carts never really agree with my stomach, yeh see," Hagrid explained, looking almost pleadingly toward Harry. She merely smiled and nodded.

After Hagrid had left, Harry made her way to Madam Malkin's, but when she saw the prices on the robes there, she blanched and made her way to a hand-me-down store instead. There, Harry found some gems among the racks and piles as well as clothes made of materials that were good for beginning designers to work with.

The clerk raised an eyebrow at the mix of boy and girl clothes and looked like he might say something about it when he noticed both a male and female Hogwarts uniform, but merely shook his head and told Harry the total price of her purchases.

After paying, Harry brought her things to a dark alcove where she separated them into the proper compartments in her trunk. Hagrid still wasn't out of the Leaky Cauldron so she decided to waste some time in a stationary store buying parchment, ink and a few ordinary and enchanted quills, including a very expensive one that would take dictation. When she saw Hagrid again, she was eating a fantastic ice cream at Florean Fortiscue's and Hagrid, though red in the face, looked considerably better.

Flourish and Blott's was an exercise in restraint. Harry wanted very much to purchase the whole store, there were just _so_ many interesting titles, but she settled for her history text, a few about recent events in the wizarding world, one about magical security, a much cut-down pile on magical creatures that Hagrid lauded as the best choices, and a book on magical tailoring and fashion design. She also took out subscriptions to the Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, the Quibbler, and the bi-monthly Care of Magical Creatures Digest. Hagrid seemed bewildered by some of Harry's choices, but shrugged it off when she drew him into another discussion about creatures.

"I know the Dursley's would never let me, but can we _please,_ just look at the pet shop?" Harry asked, almost whining as she walked alongside Hagrid.

"Don' yeh worry abou' tha', Harry," Hagrid replied shiftily. "Yeh jus' get yer wand and I'll be righ' back, howzzat sound, eh?"

 _That's suspicious,_ Harry thought, raising an eyebrow at Hagrid, but decided whatever it was could wait. She walked into Ollivanders.

"Ah, Mister… hmm… that's odd… Miss Potter? Well, regardless, I've been expecting you." Harry jumped and spun around, facing the odd old man who had spoken.

"Who are you?" Harry asked, extremely creeped out by the man and resisting the urge to add _and how do you know my secret?_

"I, child, am Garrick Ollivander. This is my shop, passed down in my family since the Romans first built Londinium ages ago. I've sold many wands in my day, both your parents' wands and the one that gave you the scar on your forehead that you're hiding, I'm sad to say," Ollivander babbled, roaming about the store, grabbing a few boxes and a length of measuring tape. "I remember every wand I've ever sold. Your father for instance, favored a Mahogany wand, eleven inches, pliable, excellent for transfigurations. I dare say it served him well. And while I say he favored it, it's really the wand that chooses the wizard. Which is your wand arm?"

"Er… I'm right-handed if that's what you mean," Harry replied awkwardly. As she lifted her right arm, at Ollivander's prompting, the tape measure began to take all manner of measurements and the glossy-eyed old man began talking amicably once more.

"Your mother's, on the other-hand was made of Willow, ten and a quarter inches, swishy, and nice for charms work. Wands can determine what sort of magic you're best at, and if the match is bad it can impede your ability." As Ollivander went on and on, his measuring tape just kept on measuring progressively more ridiculous distances, such as that from Harry's nose to her left elbow and between her eyes. At a snap of the wand-maker's fingers the tape ceased its activity and fell to the ground. Ollivander brought one of the boxes from the shelves and opened it reverently before Harry.

"Yew and dragon heartstring, give it a wave," Ollivander stated leaning in too close to Harry's face for her comfort. She grabbed the proffered wand gingerly and swished it through the air, to no effect what-so-ever.

Thus began two painstaking hours of swishing completely random wand after completely random wand. While the process left Harry increasingly irritated and the shop increasingly destroyed, Ollivander seemed to grow more and more excited.

"Tricky customer… hmmm…. I wonder…" Ollivander trailed off as he wandered back into ruined shelves of wand boxes. He came back, his eyes gleaming in excitement as he opened the box and handed the latest wand to Harry.

From the moment the wand touched her skin, Harry knew this was the one. It was warm in her palm sending tingles like soothing music up her arm. She gave the wand a wave. Red and gold ribbons of living fire as fine as hand-woven silk erupted from the wand's tip, swaying in a nonexistent breeze. The sight made Harry want to weep bitter-sweet tears.

"Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches. Curious… I think we should expect great things from you…. _Miss_ Potter," Ollivander began. Harry stared defiantly, not wanting to ask the obvious question he was expecting. Ollivander merely chuckled and continued. "I say this because the phoenix who donated the feather in that wand, it gave another feather, just _one_ other. I find it curious you should be chosen by that wand when its brother is the very wand that gave you your famous scar. And I say we should expect great things from you, because the Dark Lord did great things, terrible, yes, but great."

Harry threw seven galleons onto the shop's counter and much to Ollivander's surprise, ran out of the shop like her life depended on it.

Hagrid found Harry outside the shop, huffing and feeling a bit foolish, but still thoroughly creeped out by Garrick Ollivander. The giant was carrying a cage, occupied by the most beautiful owl Harry had ever seen.

"Happy birthday, Harry," Hagrid shouted. Harry smiled as she gazed at her new pet. _Maybe the Dursleys won't mind if I keep it in my room and only let it out at night…_

After that, Hagrid offered to buy dinner at the Leaky Cauldron, but she begged off and said she had to be getting home. Hagrid grumbled a bit, but accepted and gave Harry her Hogwarts Express ticket, before leaving himself to finish up his "school business," when Harry told him she knew her way home.

Harry sighed. She had never been as free to do and buy what she wished as at that moment and she savored the rush before making her way into London for her real shopping spree.

Feeding her new owl, as yet unnamed, she released her, knowing that magical owls could find their way, and seeing that her snowy was smart even for her own kind. Then with the owl's cage stowed in her trunk, Harry made her way into a clothing store.

She was fairly well stocked, but decided to round out her collection with more modern male and female styles and fabrics to both wear and experiment with. Harry also picked up a couple pairs of trainers, socks, and underwear. Harry even, blushing fiercely and looking around suspiciously, grabbed several pairs of girls' pants. The store's clerk, unlike those in Diagon Alley, just smiled genially, as if Harry's purchases were perfectly normal.

Harry also purchased pencils, biros, paper notebooks, Textbooks for secondary school courses, a telescope she suspected would be much better than the wizards' and a backpack in which to carry whatever supplies she would need for classes. After her long and exciting day, when Harry was finally sure she had bought everything she needed or wanted, she started to make her way to a bus stop when something caught her eye.

She stared in awe at the brilliant colors and sparkles decorating a shop window. The shop seemed to be stocked with all manner of cosmetics and typically "girly" things, and though Harry wasn't interested in everything, she definitely wanted to investigate the store further.

Harry sighed and stepped away. As much as she wanted to see what was in that store, she didn't have the time, nor did she feel confident that she would be ignored. Out of the corner of her eyes she had even thought she noticed people giggling and pointing at her just for staring at the store. How would they react to her walking in. Harry gulped and ran away, dragging her trunk behind her.

It was dark by the time Harry had made it back to Privet Drive. Vernon looked like he wanted to shout at her for getting back so late, but he didn't say a word. Harry tiredly dragged her trunk up the stairs and into her bedroom.

Harry's owl awaited her diligently outside her window on the sill. Harry smiled and rushed to the window to let the bird inside. The owl was prim and beautiful.

"What do you think of the name Monica?" Harry asked as the name seemed to pop into her head. The owl looked at her quizzically before seeming to accept and resumed preening its feathers.

Harry shrugged and smiled as she removed Monica's cage from her trunk and set it up on her small desk. As soon as she finished that, she threw herself onto her bed and cocooned herself in the sheets. She fell asleep almost instantly.


	4. Making Friends

**Chapter 4**

 **AN: Alright, sorry this took so long to come out. It may not have at all if it weren't for all the fans who posted reviews and sent me PMs asking about it. This story is close to my heart and I was so glad to see it was close to others' as well. I have however discovered that I have a difficult time writing the Hogwarts express sections, I do not expect to have such a huge delay between future chapters and I believe I will attempt to avoid writing Hogwarts express chapters in the future where possible. So please enjoy and feel free to post reviews of any sort, although I do reserve the right to remove them if I find the comments offensive. I understand Transgenderism is still a hot-button issue, so I just ask you attempt to be mature. To resolve any confusion, Harry is transgender, She is physically and biologically male, but she identifies with female gender roles. She is young, so this is extremely confusing for her, especially without a firm supportive environment. Sadly this is not uncommon for transgender people. Harry is not a cross-dresser or drag-queen, both represent a counter-cultural expression of male sexuality. Harry is female, and can be either straight or gay whether or not she finds, in due time when she starts noticing such things, that she is attracted to males or to other females. Harry will never and can never be a gay male character in this story. I hope that clears things up.**

 **Also, I am not a fan of God Harry stories or fan fiction where magic can easily solve every problem with no major ramifications. Harry's life is not going to be suddenly perfect because magic just Knows how things should be and fixes it for her. As I tried to imply in the previous chapter, Wizards are _less_ accepting of non-standard sexual and gender identities. This story is meant to be a journey delving into the difficulty of gaining acceptance, if magic just suddenly solved all of Harry's problems, or even some of them, it would take away from the point I am trying to make, that life is often a struggle for transgender people. Don't expect this to be a happy everything-goes-perfectly-all-the-time kind of story.**

 **On another note, Dumbledore is, like all humans, neither fully good nor fully evil. Everyone has biases, everyone makes mistakes. Let us not forget that Dumbledore plans, for at least Harry's second year for Harry to be sacrificed for the greater good. Let us also not forget all the good Dumbledore does throughout the series. I expect my Dumbledore will be much more complicated than a simple label of good or evil.**

On the morning of September first, Harry awoke early. She made sure the house was spotless so that when the Dursleys saw it they would have nothing to complain about. And, after releasing Monica, telling her they would meet up at Hogwarts, Harry crept downstairs and out of the house, dragging her trunk behind her.

Harry got a few odd looks on her way to the bus stop, but most simply wrote her off as child, up to something silly. A short bus ride later and Harry found herself in London. She almost lost her way at a few points, but managed to transfer to the right buses and eventually made her way to King's Cross Station, still with an hour to spare before the Hogwarts Express's departure time. She was thankful that she no longer had to drag her trunk as she hefted it onto a trolley and made her way into the station.

Harry reached the barrier between platforms nine and ten in a bit of a huff and stared at the solid stone, frowning in consternation. _Of course, it would be just my luck that Hagrid would forget to tell me how to get onto the platform._ Harry sighed in frustration and sat herself on her trunk, trying to figure out what to do next. Luck came in the form of a clan of loud-mouthed gingers.

"Look at all these muggles, it seems the place gets more crowded every year," a loud matronly woman began. "Now Ginny, which platform is it again?" A young girl, ginger like the older woman and cadre of males surrounding them, giggled before answering.

"Platform nine and three quarters, mum. Everybody knows that!" the girl replied, scanning the train station like she had never seen one before.

 _Definitely Wizards._ Harry thought with a smirk. She had no desire to interact with anyone she didn't have to and the size of this warm, over-excited family seemed a bit overbearing, so she watched them like a hawk as they shuffled up to the stone barrier between the platforms instead. _It can't be that simple, can it?_

As the redheads started disappearing, Harry was a bit irritated. It seemed every time one of the wizards got close enough to slam into the wall some random passerby always seemed to obscure her view of what happened. She, of course, had her suspicions. It wasn't until the youngest boy was gearing up, seemingly to ram his trunk into the barrier at full tilt, that Harry got her confirmation.

"Remember Ronald, there's not really a barrier there, just keep that in mind and walk right through. Take it at a run if you're nervous," the matron stated in patronizing reassurance. The boy blushed red in the face and grunted before running straight at the barrier. Just as the boy was about to collide, or pass through, the solid rock, a man in a business suit barreled straight into Harry, sending them both sprawling. The man's coffee and briefcase went soaring through the air.

Luckily, the briefcase was merely scuffed by its landing. The coffee, on the other hand, sadly exploded upon impact. The man, still in a hurry, quickly got up and brushed himself off, bagel still clenched in his teeth.

"Terribly sorry, my boy," was all he had to say, before the man grabbed his briefcase and began sprinting once more, leaving Harry behind in heap. She huffed. _Well, that was rude._

Harry got up and returned her attention to the barrier. The ginger wizards were gone. She quickly pushed her cart toward the place where they were and stopped there to stare at the very much solid-seeming pillar of stone and masonry. She bit her lip and tried to imagine the barrier was a tunnel, like the mouth of an entrance to the underground and not solid stone as she began to stride toward it.

 _There is no barrier. There is no barrier. There is no barrier._ Harry chanted over and over in her head. As the front of her trunk reached the stone she was about to close her eyes and flinch when she realized that the front end was already phasing through the material with no resistance. Harry chuckled to herself and shrugged off her anxiety as she pushed the rest of the way though onto platform nine and three quarters.

The platform was busy but not crowded. Children were saying goodbyes to their tearful parents, or hefting luggage up into the antique steam engine, painted crimson red, that was the Hogwarts Express.

Harry couldn't keep a smile off her face as she enthusiastically pushed her trunk up to a relatively clear entrance of the train. She had no trouble pulling the trunk off the trolley she had been pushing it around with and up the steps onto the train proper.

The car Harry had entered was near the back and was largely empty, so Harry had her pick of compartments. She decided on the rear-most compartment and, after several failed attempts to lift her trunk onto the rack above the seats, she decided to simply leave it on the floor. _I hate being short._

The train began moving after a few minutes and Harry settled in for what she hoped would be an uneventful ride, spent reading, watching the scenery fly past, and eating the occasional snack. It was not to be.

Just as Harry had cracked open _Overview of the Fauna of Britain_ , a boy burst into the compartment seemingly out of breath. It was one of the redheaded wizards Harry had seen, the youngest one.

"D'you mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full," the boy asked, looking truly pathetic. Harry sighed and gestured to the seat across from her. "Thanks."

The boy easily stowed his own trunk on the rack above him and sat down, staring at Harry expectantly. She ignored him and returned to her book.

"Er… I'm Ron Weasley," The boy said, awkwardly extending his hand for a handshake. Harry didn't look up from her book, hoping the boy would take the hint.

"D'you like Quidditch? It's a great game." Ron stated after a few moments of dead air. Harry's eyebrow twitched and her eyes flicked up to give him a death-glare.

"My favorite game is the quiet game, let's play, shall we?" Harry replied tersely before resuming her reading. Ron looked down and crossed his arms in frustration. The silence was only broken by the occasional turning of a page and the ever-present clacking of the train cars rolling over the tracks.

The peace and quiet was broken when the compartment door slid open to reveal a smiling old woman, pushing a trolley loaded with all sorts of wizard sweets. Harry spared a glance at the treasure trove before deciding to save her money and returned to reading. Although with all these interruptions, she mused, it was more like pretending to read.

"Anything off the trolley dears?" the lady asked, beaming with pure unadulterated joy on her face. Ron's eyes widened in awe and longing for a second before his face fell. He held up a sandwich and replied dejectedly.

"I'm all set."

For a second, Harry felt a little bad for the boy, but she didn't want to encourage his already annoying attempts to befriend her, so she decided against buying him something.

"I'm fine as well miss, thank you," Harry replied without looking up. The woman with the trolley didn't seem at all offended and just kept smiling as she hummed a happy tune and toddled off.

It was only another minute or two before Harry was interrupted from her reading once more.

"Hello, have either of you seen a toad? Neville's lost his and I've been trying t-hey! You're that boy from the zoo!" A very familiar bushy-haired girl stood speaking, hands on her hips like someone much older. She seemed to be trying to intimidate Harry for some reason. Harry sighed, closing her book and cursing her rotten luck.

"Look… About all that," Harry awkwardly began. It was at this point, however, that Ron Weasley blew a gasket.

"I've been trying to get you to say something for ages! And you put down your bloody book just because this random girl gives you the stink eye?" Ron was furious in the way Dudley was often furious when receiving fewer presents on his birthday than the previous year.

"That's hardly fair, Harry and I already met. Besides, you'd do well to crack open a book, they're great fun and, of course, help you learn," Hermione replied, apparently on Harry's behalf, imperiously. "I'm Hermione Granger by the way."

"Ron Weasley," Ron replied meekly, thoroughly cowed. Harry sighed again.

"Look, Hermione, I acted the way I did because I… this is going to sound horrible, but I never thought I'd see you again, so I was just trying out being friendly…" Harry trailed off. "I was also a little out of it, it being my first trip to the zoo… I like animals, remember?"

Hermione's facial expressions changed wildly over the course of Harry's explanation, but one constant was a look of mild hurt. It was a hurt Harry recognized, mixed with a resignation. Hermione was a little like Harry, she just knew it, friendless and hardened by repeated rejection and false friendships. Harry felt a painful pang of sympathy sweep through her.

Surely, another girl hurt by so-called friends wouldn't turn around and hurt Harry the same way, right? Would Harry be any better than her own tormentors if she just let Hermione remain friendless as she was now? Besides, she had already broken her promise to never make another friend when she had befriended Hagrid. Harry felt stones gather in the pit of her stomach, she really hoped she wouldn't regret this.

"I'm not that outgoing, bubbly person. I don't want to waste time at Hogwarts, especially since I'm working on normal secondary studies as well," Harry began. Hermione sighed and slumped, readying herself for inevitable rejection. "But I do still think your name is pretty and if you wouldn't mind starting over, maybe we could be study partners… or something?"

Harry blushed furiously, not daring to look up, too irrationally afraid of Hermione rejecting _her._ There was silence for a solid minute before Harry felt someone sit next to her on the bench and touch her shoulder. Harry looked up to see Hermione beaming. Harry guessed Hermione must have noticed her insecurities, the same way Harry had noticed Hermione's.

"I think being study partners would be smashing!" Hermione stated firmly. Ron groaned loudly.

"Bloody brilliant, I'm stuck in this train car with _two_ bookworms now," Ron exclaimed as he slumped, almost melting into the seat.

"I-I guess I'll just go look for Trevor on my own then…" Neville turned to leave.

"Neville, right?" Harry began. When he nodded, she continued. "Did you ask for help from one of the prefects? There are locating and summoning spells that they could use to find Trevor for you fairly quickly."

Neville perked up and turned towards the front of the train. "That's brilliant! Thanks, er…" Neville trailed off.

"Harry," Harry stated and returned a reserved smile.

"Thanks Harry," Neville said as he bounded off to get assistance from a prefect.

"So, which course books have you read? I've read all of them." Hermione began. What followed was good hour of chatter about books, school subjects, and animals that made Ron feel like he wanted to be anywhere else. How could a boy go nattering on with a girl like that? And about school and reading, of all things? Maybe he should go look for Harry Potter, surely he'd be properly interested in Quidditch. Then Ron's mind was consumed with fantasies of the fame and adventure he would be sure to gain if he could befriend Harry Potter and he too lost track of time.

All three were brought out of their distractions when the compartment door was flung open, revealing the pinched face of a blond with aristocratic features and a look of barely restrained disgust, which became unrestrained disgust as his eyes slid past Ron and Hermione.

"I don't suppose Harry Potter is in this compartment, is he?" The boy asked, the lazy affectation of aristocrats from a bygone age thick in his voice. Harry's eye twitched, something about the way he was carrying himself just made Harry want to punch him in the face. It wouldn't do to have that be the first impression she left, though, so she controlled her emotions and just stared into the boys eyes. "Well? Are you him, or are you wasting my time?"

"Yeah, that's my name. What of it? You don't seem to be forthcoming in that department." Harry replied, still staring defiantly at the now smugly smirking boy.

"Pardon me," he said smoothly, offering his hand. "I am Draco Malfoy, of the Wiltshire Malfoys. I was seeking you out to offer my friendship. I understand you've been kept out of our world, so you don't know who the right sort are." Here he cut his eyes at Hermione and Ron again before returning his focus to Harry. "I can help you there."

Harry raised an eyebrow at the thinly veiled insult. She considered shaking the boy's hand just to get him to leave, but knew that would only put things off for later. She sighed.

"I'm sure you and your lot would be great conversationalists," Harry began cutting her own eyes toward Draco's gormless body-guards. "I am afraid, however, I am quite capable of making friends on my own. Thank you for the offer." Harry grabbed Draco's hand shaking it vigorously while staring unblinking into his now unnerved eyes. Before the pretentious blond realized he'd been backing up, Harry let go of his hand.

"Good day," Harry stated as she slammed the compartment door shut once more.

Draco stood staring at the closed door for a few seconds before he realized what had happened and stormed off to his own compartment muttering vitriol under his breath. His two body guards just shrugged and followed.

"That was bloody brilliant!" Ron shouted. Harry winced and rolled her eyes, returning to her seat. "Why didn't you say you were Harry Potter before?"

"Because I wanted to avoid all this rigmarole. I just wanted a nice quiet ride to school." Harry slumped her shoulders and sighed. Ron wanted to explode over the sheer idea that anyone would try to avoid their own fame, but he decided since Harry Potter had just turned down Malfoy's offer of friendship, he might still have a chance. If Potter didn't want the fame and fortune of being the Boy Who Lived, Ron would happily take it off his hands.

When Ron said nothing and just seemed to be stewing for some reason, Harry shrugged and returned her attention to the person whose reaction actually mattered.

"You're not mad are you?" Harry asked Hermione sheepishly. The girl smiled and shook her head.

"Harry, that's not important..." Hermione paused awkwardly. "Really I should be thanking you for standing up for me." Harry was about to retort when a voice rang out across the train.

"We are now approaching Hogsmeade Station. Students not yet in uniform are advised to change into them now." Without preamble, Harry grabbed her boy's uniform and scurried off to find a bathroom to get changed in.

Hermione shared a confused look with Ron before shrugging and doing the same. Shortly, all three children had donned their cloaks and hats and were bouncing with eager anticipation as the Hogwarts Express finally slowed to a halt at its destination.


	5. Getting Sorted

**Alright, I know this has taken quite a while to get up here, but it has been hard to get it just where I wanted it. So I hope you enjoy the results of my blood sweat and tears. Happy Reading.**

 **6/14/2016: I have no idea how the entire scene with the hat was lost when I first posted this chapter. A huge thank you to everyone who reviewed saying it seemed to end abruptly. Chapter is fixed, sorry to everyone for my screw up.**

 **Chapter 5**

The first thing Harry heard when she got off the Hogwarts Express, followed closely by Ron and Hermione, was Hagrid shouting: "First years, first years, this way!" and waving about a Hagrid-sized lantern to catch the students' attention.

"He's rather intimidating, isn't he?" Hermione asked, sticking close to Harry, as if her new friend might disappear in a puff of smoke.

"Oh, that's just Hagrid," Harry mentioned as she situated her trunk beside the other students' belongings. "He's totally harmless. Come on, I'll introduce you."

"Armless?" Ron began, stifling giggles. "He seems to have two rather big ones to me!" Harry and Hermione both stared at the boy incredulously before they silently turned around and began walking toward Hagrid. Ron's shoulders slumped as he followed dejectedly.

"Hi Hagrid," Harry called, waving as they approached. The friendly giant of a man smiled broadly at the approaching children.

"Hello there Harry," Hagrid replied genially. "Who're your friends then?" Harry looked back and cocked an eyebrow when she noticed Ron had followed her. He reminded her of a limpet, the way he had attached himself to her and Hermione and refused to let go. Harry shrugged.

"This is Hermione and Ron," Harry explained, turning back to Hagrid. "I met Hermione way back, but Ron I've only just met on the train."

"Well, that's nice," Hagrid replied, half-listening as he motioned the first years toward tiny boats on the lake. "Come along first years, no more'n four to a boat, now."

"Alright Hagrid, you seem busy, so I'll see you later?" Harry asked, not wanting to interfere with Hagrid doing his job.

"No problem at all," Hagrid stated, beaming. Harry couldn't help but return her own smile. "I'll invite you for tea sometime."

As Hagrid turned around and began bellowing at the first years again, Harry, followed by Hermione and Ron, made their way to a boat occupied only by an Indian girl. Harry only half listened as Hermione attempted to make conversation at the other girl. Ron merely brooded silently. After a few minutes of insanity the children were sorted into boats and Hagrid sat himself alone in an empty boat and with a wave of one massive arm all the boats began drifting across the water.

The moon and stars of the early evening reflected perfectly in the still lake.

"This is the Black Lake," Hermione lectured enthusiastically. "The founders supposedly chose the spot for Hogwarts partially because of it."

"That's an ominous name," Harry stated wryly to no one in particular.

"Ain't that the case, mate?" Ron loudly agreed. "Harry Potter's sure got in one, eh? Real onimous name."

"It's _ominous,_ not onimous," Hermione huffed. "Onimous isn't even a word."

Harry shared a cocked eyebrow and an amused smile with the other occupant of their boat. The girl coughed, hiding a giggle and a smile. Harry considered giving an introduction, but was distracted by a long stark white tentacle climbing out of the surface of the lake and swinging slowly back and forth.

Harry blinked. She tried to wrap her mind around what she was seeing, but it defied explanation. It was most definitely the tentacle of a colossal squid. They were known, or at least theorized to inhabit the deepest parts of the oceans all over the world.

But this one was in a lake.

Harry scooped some water into her hand and tasted it, ignore the protests from the other occupants of the boat. She spat out the vile liquid instantly.

 _Disgusting, but not salt water…_

"How can a colossal squid even _survive!?_ " Harry exclaimed suddenly, throwing her hands up in frustration. "Ignoring the fact that this is _fresh_ water, how does the squid even find enough to eat? Does someone feed it?" Looking up, she finally saw the surprised looks on her boat-mates' faces. "What?"

"Mate," Ron said, throwing an unwanted arm around Harry's shoulders and speaking too loudly into her ear. "You need to relax. I'm sure the Giant Squid's got magic of some kind to take care of all that stuff, or the lake's bigger on the inside or something."

Harry carefully extricated herself from Ron's arm and scooted away from him. Once she felt safer, she just sighed. "Yes, you're probably right."

After another minute, the boats made their way into an artificial cave that took them into the rock below Hogwarts castle, where they landed in some kind of underground harbor. Hagrid led the children up multiple flights of stairs, past stone walls, actual flaming torches and moving portraits that welcomed them to Hogwarts. Harry was reeling at the anachronism and impossibility that greeted her at every turn. A sidelong glance at the other first years told her she wasn't alone in her wonder either.

They eventually reached an antechamber where they were greeted by a severe looking woman with black hair pulled up and hidden under her pointed hat, wearing emerald green robes and a tartan sash.

"The first years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said officiously. The woman gave a slight nod.

"Thank you, Hagrid," McGonagall replied. "I'll take things from here."

Hagrid gave an awkward bow before quickly walking off into the next room.

"In a moment," the professor began, turning to look into the eyes of various new students at turns. "You will all be sorted into your houses. While at Hogwarts your house will be like your family." McGonagall paused for effect before resuming.

"Your triumphs will earn your house points and and you will lose points for any misbehavior or rule-breaking." McGonagall paused again, looking into each student's eyes until she saw something or other that pleased her. Nodding to herself she finished her speech. "I will be back shortly after I have prepared everything in the Great Hall. Please wait here."

With that, McGonagall left the children to their own devices and the nerves that permeated the atmosphere of the room.

It took all of five seconds before chatter broke out among the children. They were speculating about the fabled "Sorting Ceremony," shrouded in mystery, obvious fiction and sly half truths. Harry figured the whole thing must be some kind of elaborate hazing ritual.

The children were loudly arguing over the various lies told to them by trusted family members and rumors they'd heard on the train about the sorting when all the debate was cut short by a loud scream. Harry looked up and saw a troop of ghosts pass into the antechamber mid-conversation.

"But, Sir Nicholas, is it not better to practice forgiveness?" a fat ghost, dressed like a catholic monk said cajollingly.

"I really think we've given Peeves all the chances he deserves," the knight replied. "Oh, look: first years! Welcome to Hogwarts, good luck with the sorting. I hope to see some of you in Gryffindor."

"Yes, I hope to see you in my house too," the catholic ghost that had spoken before stating giddily: "Hufflepuff takes all sorts."

The other two ghosts didn't say a word. One, a woman of exceeding beauty, even while transparent and without color, merely nodded sullenly. The other, who looked quite intimidating covered in chains and silver rivulets of blood, merely scanned them all with eyes half-closed in suspicion. The ghosts then left as suddenly as they had entered.

Not too long after that, McGonagall returned, silencing the chattering children with her very presence. She led the first years into a huge hall with four long tables filled with students and one at the head of the hall with adults, presumably teachers and staff.

"Alright, everyone line up," McGonagall stated. "You will each try on the Sorting Hat and it will sort you into your houses." The first years lined up and everyone's attention shifted to a ratty old hat sat on a stool in front of the head table in the middle of the great hall.

The hat split along a seam, opening like a mouth and began to, of all things, sing. Harry only paid cursory attention as it described its job and the qualities of the four houses. Her mind was becoming more and more filled with anxiety and insecurity. So involved in her own thoughts was she that Harry missed when her name was called. She was brought back to the world by Ron shaking her.

"Mate, they're calling you." In response, Harry quickly made her way to the stool. Professor McGonagall had a disgruntled look on her face as she stood sentinel, holding the Sorting Hat in her hand. Harry sat down on the stool, looking sheepish. She only had a split second of embarrassment, seeing the entire hall silently watching her before the hat's brim covered her eyes and she was cut off from the world.

"Hmm… Let's see what we have here," the hat's voice grumbled. Harry could feel herself remembering things at ten-times speed in the back of her mind. She figured that must be the Sorting Hat reading her mind. She didn't like the idea of anyone looking at a lot of those very private and personal things, but didn't know what to do to stop so just resigned herself to becoming the ridiculed freak here at Hogwarts too.

"There's no need to worry, dear," the hat suddenly said. "Everything that I discover in your head and everything we converse about will be kept a secret." Harry let out a sigh of relief she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"So how does this work?" Harry asked tentatively, realizing immediately that her mouth wasn't moving. "do you just tell me where to go now?"

"I have my opinions, but you're an interesting case," the hat replied. "I could place you in just about any house in good conscience. In these cases I like to get the student's opinions as well. So tell me, Harry, where would you like to go?"

Harry blinked then thought about what she knew of the houses. She wished she had paid attention to who was sorted into which houses before her, it would have helped. The only hint she could even think of was some of what Hermione had talked about on the train. To hear her tell it, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were the best.

"I don't really know, I guess Gryffindor or Ravenclaw since Hermione wanted to be in those houses?" Harry replied uncertainly.

"A rather Hufflepuff reasoning," the hat stated with a chuckle. "But, lets talk about _you._ You are plenty studious, but do you seek knowledge for its own sake?"

"Er..." Harry thought about all the information she had devoured in the recent months. She had goals and purpose for most and when she had started she certainly didn't pursue knowledge for its own sake. Now, however, she knew she had gained a love for learning, at the very least about animals.

"Interesting," The hat responded, before Harry had even answered its question. "You could go into Ravenclaw, your love of learning would most certainly grow. There's more here though. Yes… such big goals and a thirst to prove yourself. You'd do _very_ well in Slytherin."

Harry frowned. Although she didn't particularly care about the houses, she had overheard a lot of prejudiced statements about Slytherin, and Gryffindor for that matter.

"I don't think I'd like to be in Slytherin or Gryffindor, unless Hermione ended up there, it sounds like people will have a lot of annoying preconceptions and expectations of me if I go to either of those houses." Harry nodded her head, pleased with her own logic.

"Hmm..." The hat thought for a moment. "Well, your friend is a muggleborn. In Slytherin, which has a rather sordid history and the majority of the older families' purebloods. I'm afraid she'd face much hardship there..." it trailed off.

"Then sort me there. I don't want her to be alone." Harry stated without hesitation. She thought up plan after plan in her mind on how to redirect the Slytherin's hatred from Hermione to herself. If all else failed she did have a trump card in that department. She didn't think twice. She even surprised herself a little with how far she'd go for her… acquaintance.

"I see, I see," the hat said, chuckling to itself. "I know just where to put you now."

Harry couldn't breathe. She was terrified, but that wasn't going to stop her from succeeding at this school and protecting her… Hermione from hatred.

"Better be..." The hat began, this time out loud, pausing for effect. "Gryffindor!"


	6. Dinner with Crazy People

**Chapter 6**

Harry was about to loudly protest and demand to be sorted into Slytherin when she saw that Hermione was among the students clad in red and gold giving the loudest cheers. Harry glared daggers at the hat before making her way off the dais and down to the table next to Hermione. She could swear that that the seam was turned upward in a glib smirk. _Bloody hat..._

Many beaming faces flapped their lips at Harry excitedly, but she couldn't really hear them over the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. She was broken out of her reverie by Hermione gently shaking her.

"Sorry if I disturbed your thoughts, Harry," Hermione stated shyly. "Are you feeling alright? You seem like you've been on edge since we walked into the hall."

"Sorry, Hermione," Harry replied shaking her head and trying to bring herself back down to earth. "Things have just gone from strange to totally nutters so quickly, I'm trying to find my bearings." Hermione merely smiled and nodded in reply.

The two new friends turned and watched as the last few students were sorted. Harry had to stifle a groan when Ronald was sorted into Gryffindor. She wanted to slam her head into the table when the aforementioned boy shoved his way onto the bench next to her, squeezing in uncomfortably close and displacing Hermione who gave a yelp of protest.

"Hey mate," Ron said, smiling like a moron. "Grand we ended up sorted into the same house. We'll be in the same dorm all seven years, it'll be a lark!"

Harry went rigid, realizing she'd have to stay in the boys dorm. Intellectually, she had already known she'd have to share with boys and it wasn't as weird for her as it would be for someone who was _born_ a girl. Ron saying it had really sunk it in, though. She would have to spend seven years with a bunch of normal, non-freak boys. Harry sighed, maybe it wouldn't be as bad as she thought, these boys didn't know she was a freak, after all. The hall going quiet drew Harry's attention to the headmaster, his hands raised.

"There are pre-term announcements to be made," the hoary old man began, to nearly unanimous groans. "But, I shall leave those until after the feast. For now I will instead leave you with but a few words to ponder: Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, Tweak. Now, Tuck in."

Harry was distracted by Dumbledore's nonsense for long enough that she didn't notice the feast appear on the house tables. When she finally did take a look she reeled back in surprise. Every single dish contained meat in some form. Harry sighed, scooping up garnishes and side dishes that looked mostly devoid of animal products. She saw out of the corner of her eye that Ron was dead to the world as he shoved food in his mouth like a half-starved pig and Hermione merely raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"Are you a vegetarian?" asked the Indian girl Harry, Ron and Hermione had shared a boat with. Harry smiled wanly and nodded. "Same here, we'll have to go see whoever prepares the menu and get something we can actually eat added. I'm Parvati, by the way, Parvati Patil."

The girl reached her hand across the table and Harry shook it politely. "Harry Potter, nice to meet you." laughter broke out all around the table within earshot. Harry blushed in embarrassment.

"What did I do wrong?" Harry asked in a small voice. After stifling her laughs and glaring at some the other first years she turned back to Harry, looking contrite.

"Sorry," Parvati replied. "It was just funny that you introduced yourself when _everybody_ knows who you are. The idea you'd need to make introductions was just really funny." Parvati smiled sheepishly and Harry returned it. She was doing a terrible job at her goal of keeping people at arms length.

The feast went on a bit longer. Harry found what little she could eat was unreasonably delicious. She really did need to find these cooks, at the very least to exchange recipes. She was particularly fond of the treacle tart. Once conversation had died down to a dull roar and all were quite stuffed, the tables cleared themselves of their own accord and Dumbledore stood once more.

"Now we are all fed and watered, to the announcements!" the old man began jovially. "Mr. Filch has asked me to tell the first years, and remind the older students, that Forbidden Forest is, of course, Forbidden to all students outside of specific faculty-sanctioned and supervised activities. For more details you can always consult the thirteen volumes of the Hogwarts charter and its many amendments."

As Dumbledore went on about rules and new clubs and things, Harry's attention drifted to the sallow man with a sour expression on his face. Their eyes met across the hall and the man sneered with furious hatred. In the same moment, Harry felt a sharp pain, like a hot needle, drive into her head from her scar. The pain was crippling but gone as quickly as it arrived.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione whispered. Harry nodded distractedly and returned her attention to Dumbledore. Hermione looked like she wanted to say more, but let the conversation drop and turned back to the head table as well.

"Furthermore, this year, the third floor corridor is being put to special use and should be avoided by all those who do not wish to die a most painful death." Dumbledore finished, still cheerful, despite his solemn warning. "Now I think it's time for you all to be scurrying off to bed. You're dismissed."

"First years," called an overly prim voice. Harry turned her head to see it came from the only upperclassman wearing the pointed hat part of their uniform. He was a tall boy with flaming red hair. "First years follow me." The boy didn't wait long for the first years to group and follow, so they all had to hustle to catch up.

The rest of the upperclassmen took odd turns and disappeared shortly into the journey. Harry figured they must know shortcuts that hazing demanded the first years find for themselves. She mentally filed it away as she struggled up the fourth flight of stairs, trying to keep up with the group.

All told, they had gone up ten flights and down four. Harry tried to keep her annoyance at what must have been a long detour to herself as the red-headed ponce walked up to a portrait featuring a rotund woman dressed like the classic caricature of an opera singer, right down to the long-stemmed glass of wine in her hand.

"Password?" The painting asked.

"Caput Draconis." The boy stated quickly and clearly. The woman on the canvas nodded and the portrait swung forward on a hinge, revealing a cozy looking sitting room with a great big hearth at the center. There were a few students reading and scribbling their antique quills on rolls of parchment.

"I am Percy Weasley," The boy stated, with his aggravating crispness. "As a Prefect it is my job to punish rule breaking and take care of you younger students until you get your bearings. Feel free to come to me if you see any misbehavior on the part of your housemates or if you need any help finding your way around. Professor McGonagall will be handing out schedules tomorrow at breakfast. Now off to bed. Girls to the left, and boys to the right."

Harry's mind was filled with questions to ask, but Percy had made it quite clear he did not wish to answer them. She shrugged and turned to the doors leading to the dormitories. She froze in place. She could feel the label like an iron collar tightening around her neck. Her things would be in the boys' dorm. Everyone would expect her to enter the boys' dorm. There were bound to be spells to keep the children out of the "wrong" dorms as well. There was no practical reason for Harry to go into the girls' dormitory, but she wanted to.

Harry sighed and stepped to the right. She was being silly. Of course she'd be with the boys, it wasn't _that_ big of a deal. She climbed the spiral staircase like a prisoner walking toward execution. She tried to focus on all the wonderful things that Hogwarts would give her, but all that came to her mind was the tightness around her throat and the lead in her feet.

As soon as she reached the top of the stairs she saw the open door to the first year dorm. She could see Ron Weasley gesticulating wildly as he told the other boys some story or other. She walked inside.

"Hey Harry," Ron waved and smiled brightly. "I think that's yours over by the window." He pointed, and sure enough, there lay her trunk. She smiled sadly and walked over to her bed and fell into it. She felt a wordless hope that magic might somehow know she was really a girl and give her some aid. The whole half-formed thought seemed stupid to her now. Why should magic be any more help than anything else in her life. No, if magic was to be her salvation, it would be some spell or potion that _she_ had to work for.

Harry wiped the unshed tears from her eyes as she got up from her bed. In silence, Harry rummaged through the clothing compartment of her trunk and grabbed pajamas. She marched herself to the bathroom to prepare herself for the night. The boys watched her, confused, but merely shrugged when she returned from the bathroom and laid down to sleep, leaving her robes folded on top of her trunk for tomorrow.


End file.
